Flowers For An Impossible Maiden
by Jatd4ever
Summary: Another story for the game.


***I don't own jane and the Dragon or its characters**

 **I had trouble writing this at first, but then it worked. Thanks to everyone on this story game, and no, they do not know yet, but Jane is drawing a few conclusions.**

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Dried flowers surrounded her feet. With her boots, she kicked them into the corners. As pretty as they were, she did not know what to do with the voluminous amount of them. It was surprising how long a flower could live without the main body of a bush, without the steadiness of the earth, without the warmth of the day. Soon enough there would be more to take their place, first roses, then chrysanthemums: she liked them, but not enough to care whether they lived or died.

Normally, she would have gotten rid of any sort of bloom if they were exotic, but certain wisps of lethal purple were different, familiar. Unlike the expensive orchids, these were prickly, a weed in fact. What could it mean? The earthen vase held those dangerous, lethal beauties. Despite her mother's warnings, she could not bring herself to getting rid of them, so she kept them on the window sill. Jane dare not touch them, careful only to look. Would it really hurt so much to touch them?

 _"Painful to touch and almost impossible to get rid of once established_ "

Almost impossible, like many other things. Being the first girl knight was impossible, but she proved it was improbable. To find dragons was also considered impossible, until she confronted the beast which stole the royal child. Impossible meant little to nothing. Her hand hovered over the wicked weed, but the sight of him stopped her. Algernon, all smiles and polished beauty stood in the yard looking for her. What a pain.

Jane allowed her body to sink to the floor, hoping to be able to hide away from him until she had to absolutely leave her tower. At this point, it was hard to say if it had been the fault of the dress, the wearer, or a lady in waiting, but none of it mattered anymore. Like the flowers around her, they made the best of a situation. What was what exactly? Did she have the right to choose? Was there not at least a tiny freedom?

Dried leaves littered the floor, petals from other blooms another nuisance to deal with. Did their senders think it amusing to turn her room to a grave for flowers, who had seen better yesterdays? The thistle was indifferent to this of course. It did not matter. Change, many things changed.

"What happened to ' _I want to be a smelly old Knight?_ '" she whispered.

A lot happened. As nature intended, the length of her limbs, the noticeable curves which shaped her body in an unavoidable femininity, the length of her tresses, the pink of her lips, it was a fault of aging which could not be avoided; she had changed, but was still Jane. Like before, she wanted to be all she could be, but everyone did not respect that, they all wanted something of her, to know her, to twist her. If they were smart enough, perhaps they would observe her, then come to their own conclusions. It was only natural to be curious, as everyone had been, but none of them had tried to know her, none genuinely tried, they only bombarded her with trinkets of restriction.

Well, almost all of them.

Many things have been hard to think about as of late, but the muddy waters were clearing, even if by just a little. She knew, Jane knew she did not care for any of her suitors, except perhaps for the Sun and Moon fellow. As a matter of fact, other than Algernon, he made one of the largest impressions. The Sun and Moon, how they were drawn by someone who was not an artist, the gifts being as simple as they were, all of them were well made, and a compliment to her duty and lifestyle. Whoever he was, wherever he was, he knew her, and she knew enough to respect him.

The letters, they carved a little space in her, they were sincere. However, how would she know who he was? It was said in one of the cards, that he would make himself known, if she wanted him to. Otherwise, she would become like the dying blooms, picked to serve a purpose, and left without sufficient light and water, left to dry, only waiting to fall.

Blessed wind managed to carry some of the petals away, their perfume tickled her freckled nose. The scent made her nostalgic for the days without number, for the time when night and day were nothing but a pause to the usual activity. Day was a time to spar and dance rings around Gunther, night was the time fighting was left for another day. Why, she could even allow herself to think of balls, before him, before gowns, before anyone would care about the difference. Why did things have to change?

Simple, because life itself being a gift, could be an enemy, and a test. There was no denying, she had been glad to see the likes of Gunther after so many days of pointless gifts, and mother being a mother, and a screaming princess, and a pompous, pretty, peacock who would not bog off. It was, she would admit, a comfort to have her comrade back. Even if it took time, if their shape, or standing, or swords were blunted, they could count on one another, to sharpen, to strengthen, to carry the other when they were weak as they had before. Truly, she liked Gunther a great deal better than most, and she would not mind….If…if he saw her in a gown, because now she had two daggers, and that was better than one.

When Jane dared to steal a glance from her window, she was relieved to find the limpet gone. A delivery of the much needed supplies for the upcoming ball and its contents were currently being unloading by the castle boys and Gunther. Nearby her father shook his head in his usual manner, a little less than pleased. No doubt, the merchant planned on cheating, but her father was a sharp man, he would fix it.

Why watch them, it was nothing more than the usual delivery. With only two days or so before the ball, she should have been busy helping her fellow knights and staff, but mother complained it would darken her already tanned skin. What a bother. Her eyes were quick to settle on her fellow knight squire. Nothing so unusual, nothing she had not seen before, but her breath hitched at the sight of her comrade. As though there was no care, no feeling no anything felt, his face was not even cold, but blank. Painted was his skin, full of blacks and blues.

It hurt to look at him, for it appeared he had a limp. From what she had heard from Jester, the fight was far more brutal than she could have imagined. The details alone made her wish she had intervened and put a stop to it, but her mother forbade it. The day before, it all seemed tests of strength, of brutish pride or whatever it was you called it when men took out their frustrations just such acts of violence. Unlike the other matches, this one was different, without sport or laughter.

Jane had stopped to watch the match. Mother was persistent in her words, but she would not listen, she could not. Everything was all wrong, nothing of sportsmanship could be seen in their stance, the two men before her were really and truly trying to hurt each other. Mother thought it was foolish to stand there any longer, it was not for ladies eyes she said. Her friend, her… _Companion_.

Sir Theodore had said so before did he not, that one day, they would fight for each other. They would _compliment_ one another. How her hands itched, how her legs ached to be near him, to fight with him, to fight for him. I fight because of you, I fight for you, I need you. Why would a simple suitor say such words unless he was a knight or fighter… Like..like her? Algernon, was not the writer of the letter, this she discerned, for he did not understand honor.

The words the sprung into her head began to make a little sense. Algernon, for everything he portrayed himself to be, was nothing more than a hypocritical maggot, one she would gladly stomp the life of before it could make anything else fester. Whether it was the underhanded blows, the lifeless glare, or the fact that he was trespassing on her territory. No one, and she meant no one had a right to fight, taunt, or annoy Gunther. If anyone earned the right to destroy those tumbled locks, to turn his mouth askew with her flaming words then it was her; it was the work of a lifetime. He was hers.

What did that mean?

Their eyes met in between the breaks for breath, and she saw it. She knew him, as though light and dark, and sun and moon were them. No, he was the moon, for while he hid in the darkness, there was still a still a light about him. She needed him, and he needed her to support him in times of hardship. It was not the time to think about what any of it could mean. There was a pleading, a softening, a knowing in his face.

Jane smiled, in silent support of him, and he responded with a nod. There might have been something else, but the lady in waiting had managed to convince her to leave. If Jane would have stayed, perhaps Jane would have seen the words _I am yours_ which his eyes whispered before they were consumed by the blackness of Algernon's evil.

When Jane's thoughts returned to the present, stew forced her eyes to look upon her comrade once more, and felt relief at this revelation. If she had not seen the fight of the day before, perhaps there would still have been doubts. As natural to her as the night, as natural as there was a little darkness to hide in, she would help him. Before she knew it, the redhead threw the tower door open, challenging destiny and time. With everything, she ran down those uneven steps, and stopped to stand before him.

Everyone looked upon her then, but it would not matter. In all his struggles, the raven haired knight trudged back to haul another sack of grain, and froze at the sight of her. The redhead did not face him completely, but smiled to the group of them. "I thought I would help. All of you must be in need of one more pair of hands if preparations are to be done on time."

The knight squire, even as dark as he might have thought himself, was melting. It was about bloody time…about time for her to showoff, be a good girl and showoff. Who needed her? They all knew who the better knight squire was, but that was an argument he hoped would never end.

"Daughter?" gasped the Chamberlain.

The concern, Jane knew was not of his disappointment. "Do not worry father, I have finished all my duties for the morning. And with this heat, it would not hurt to finish work ahead of schedule, right?"

The boys grunted in agreement. How very amusing thought the chamberlain. With that, they all sweated together. Of course, in a group of working men and lady, the yard smelled, they were aromatic to say the least. However, if you were to ask Gunther how they smelled, he would think silently that Jane smelled the sweetest.


End file.
